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Soul of a City Boy, Jesse Colin Young, Capitol Records, 1964 (re-issued in 1974)

I fell in love with this record when I was in high school. I heard Rye Whiskey and Four in the Morning when they were played on a very cool underground radio show in 1967. I learned that the album was out of print—no more copies were being made. I always wanted things I couldn’t get. Then I found it in the library. Such a dilemma—I could take it from them and pay $4 ($40 today), a fraction of what collectors sold a copy for. I had no problem with stealing it from the library, it was the taking it from other Soul of a City Boy fans. I didn’t lock the car in those days—property is theft, I knew. Capitol reissued it in 1974.

When I tried drinking whiskey, I started with rye as a tribute to Young. He sang ‘For work I’m too lazy, begging’s too slow/train robbin’ is too dangerous/a-gambling I’ll go.’ That’s the life I wanted. There was only one brand of rye for sale in the city of Chicago. Old Overholt was rough and cheap. Four in the Morning was a song about things going wrong—until David Allan Coe fixed You Never Even Called Me by My Name for Steve Goodman, it was the saddest ol’ song. Four a.m, (and not sleeping), rain pouring down, stove don’t work, my baby left town, nothing to drink, empty bottles and dirty dishes all over, baby lying to him until he murdered her and her boyfriend, a cockroach mocked him successfully. You might think it’s overwrought, me, I’ll say mournful.

The record also has Susanne and Black-Eyed Susan. I love all references to the Jack of Diamonds. (You can ask the guys in my poker game.) Young sang he’d finished 10,000 bottles of whiskey or wine in his time. I have a mashup in my mind—if he roomed with Wilt Chamberlain, every time the Big Dipper went out on a date, Young would open a bottle. When Wilt got back, they could compare notes.

The Resurrection of Pigboy Crabshaw, the Butterfield Blues Band, Elektra, 1967

I’ve found that Pigboy Crabshaw was a nickname for Elvin Bishop. This was the band’s first record after Mike Bloomfield quit, so I guess that’s the ‘resurrection’ part, but nobody’s saying if it was meant to be as insulting as it sounds to me. Dave Sanborn, an excellent alto sax player, died this week, so I thought it would be a good time to haul this one out. At the time I didn’t care for this LP much, thinking it was a sell-out from the Muddy Waters/Little Walter-style Chicago blues of the first two albums. [Of course, Butterfield had the same problem John Mayall had keeping guitar players in the Bluesbreakers.] This is a blues/Stax-Volt-style R&B/jazz hybrid with some early Parliament funk. Butterfield had the nerve to cover Marvin Gaye on One More Heartache—his singing sounded much better than his first two records. Maybe he was intimidated by Bloomfield. Pity the Fool has nothing to do with Mr. T. Born Under a Bad Sign, Double Trouble, and Drivin’ Wheel are strong covers. Horns started infecting pop music in the mid-60s. Everybody thought it was going to be the next big thing, so a lot of bands tried it. This was successful.

Dennis Thompson, drummer for the MC5, dies at 75

Everything dies, baby, that’s a fact, is how Bruce Springsteen put it. It’s still sad in this case because Thompson was the last original member of the band. He played loud. The story was that the band couldn’t afford a microphone for the drums, and since the two guitar players had their amps at 10, Thompson hit the drums as hard as he could. He started playing the drums when he was 4. He dropped out of Wayne State where he was studying engineering when that would have been a draft deferment and a good shot at steady job. Thompson said, I chose fun. I wasn’t doing math at 4 years old, right? I was playing drums.

Wayne Kramer, a guitar player, died in February, and John Sinclair, the manager, died in April, so the stories about how the band was notorious and groundbreaking more than commercially successful have made the rounds. My favorite is that when Detroit’s biggest store didn’t carry the MC5’s record because it used profane lyrics, Sinclair took out a big newspaper ad using profane language directed at Hudson’s. When my cousin Moose was asked to leave a bar because he was drunk, he dropped his trousers on the way out. It was a perfect gesture in the moment, but at a price.

Walt Kelly poem about the Aurora Borealis

I have carried this in my head for 60 years—something about ‘roar a roar’ appealed to me. It was in a collection of Pogo comic strips. Now I have an excuse to share. Hope you saw just as much as you wanted.

O roar a roar for Nora
Nora Alice in the night
For she has seen Aurora Borealis burning bright
A furor for our Nora
And applaud Aurora seen!
Where throughout the summer has our Borealis been?

—Walt Kelly

Diddy Wah Diddy, Captain Beefheart & his Magic Band, Sundazed Music, Record Store Day, 2012

This is pretty good. Diddy Wah Diddy, Who Do You Think You’re Fooling, Moonchild, and Frying Pan are the songs. Diddy Wah Diddy was written by Willie Dixon and Bo Diddley. It describes life in a mythical town of that name where food abounds, no one has to work, and no one has any cares. Frying Pan is a prediction about social media that, alas, has come true:

Out of the frying pan into the fire
Anything you say, they’re gonna call you a liar
Go downtown, walk around
the man comes up, says he’s gonna put me down
you try to succeed, to fulfill your need
get hit by a car, people watching you bleed
out of the frying pan into the fire
anything you say, they’re gonna call you a liar
watch what you do do now, think what you’re saying
if you get crossed up, you’ll end up paying
ain’t no use, I’m gonna cut it all loose
I made a mistake, I can’t cut no break
Out of the frying pan into the fire

The Best of Sam Cooke, RCA, 1962

When I realized A Change Is Gonna Come wasn’t on this record, I made sure to buy another Cooke compilation that had it. It very easy to like Sam Cooke’s singing. Wikipedia put it well—his pure tenor voice was big, velvety, and expansive; he was effortlessly soulful; and he had a mellow somberness. For example, Having a Party doesn’t sound as if the party is much fun (unlike, say, Quarter to Three by Gary U.S. Bonds). Cooke was born in Clarksdale, Miss., the same town as John Lee Hooker, Ike Turner, and Muddy Waters.

I wish there were a way to know what most adults (and most teens) understood of the language in pop songs. Twistin’ the Night Away says that a fella in blue jeans is dancing with an older queen. The lyrics certainly say it is a same-sex couple, but I guess very few people knew that. Little Richard said that Miss Molly sure likes to ball—the decent folks wouldn’t have allowed that if they knew. Chain Gang is on this record, and I don’t know what anyone thought of it. Was it like 16 Tons, a mostly outdated work song about an unfairly tough job? That convicts in much of the South have it rough? It made it to Number 2 in the charts.

Record Store Day 2013, The Seeds, four songs on two 45-rpm records

If you remember the Seeds at all it is for their top 40 hit ‘Pushin’ Too Hard’ in 1965. It is called psychedelic garage rock by Wikipedia–high praise. Turns out they are still around, touring as Daryl Hooper and the Seeds. The more-or-less original Seeds, already embracing nostalgia by going as Sky Saxon and the Seeds, recorded these four songs in 1970. Turned out it was the last new material for the Seeds on a major label. The singles were never distributed. I think they finally saw the light of day 10 years ago so that Seeds fans and rock and roll historians could find out they weren’t very good. Here’s their hits.

Choice Cuts 2010, National Record Store Day, Universal Music Group promotion

There are 16 songs by 16 bands. Side 1 is Violent Soho, ‘Jesus Stole My Girlfriend.’ Neon Trees, ‘Animal.’ Paper Tongues, ‘Ride to California.’ Findlay Brown, ‘Love Will Find You.’ Anberlin, ‘Mother.’ Imelda May, ‘Johnny Got a Boom Boom.’ Kelis, ‘Acapella.’ And Major Lazer, ‘Pon the Floor.’

Side 2 is Moreland & Arbuckle, ’18 Counties.’ Alpha Rev, ‘New Morning.’ Kevin Hammond, ‘Broken Down.’ Peter Wolf, featuring Shelby Lynne, “Tragedy.’ Shel, ‘The Latest and Greatest Blueberry Rubber Band.’ Aqualung, ‘Fingertip.’ Four Year Strong, ‘Wasting Time.’ Steel Panther, ‘Don’t Stop Believin.’’

It is mostly good. I have included my two favorites here. By the way, Steel Panther nails ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’ You may wonder why they would bother—from what I found on the Web, they like comedy and parody.

Spirit, Twelve Dreams of Dr. Sardonicus, Epic, 1970

I was mad this morning when I saw that the New York Times called Spirit a psychedelic band. It was in an article about intellectual property. They were too good for that. Psychedelic bands couldn’t play well, so they played trippy, such as the Amboy Dukes and Iron Butterfly. I looked Spirit up in Discogs and saw that’s what they called Spirit. Those folks should have known better, because they must have listened to 12 Dreams of Dr. Sardonicus, a wonderful power pop LP. Nothin’ to Hide is a cheery pop confection about heroin addiction. Nature’s Way bops along looking at death—it’s nature’s way of telling you something’s wrong. Mr. Skin is the catchiest tune I’ve heard in a while—I’m Mr.-Mr. Skin, I know where you’ve been. Morning Will Come has the coolest falsetto this side of Richard Manuel. Love Has Found a Way and Animal Zoo are classics. How could folks not get it?

Then I noticed the cover. I have always thought it was ugly and never stopped to look closely. It’s a photo of the band looking like a Bruegel painting copied by Dali. Ugly, at the risk of repeating myself, and very surreal. That’s the psychedelic part. Don’t judge this record by its cover.

The Pirates, Out of Their Skulls, Warner Brothers, 1977

When I linked to the Peter Gunn theme in the Duane Eddy obit, I remembered that the Pirates recorded a version in 1977. In the interests of getting everything to touch, here’s that record. Peter Gunn was a TV show that featured a private detective and a jazzy theme song. Emerson, Lake, and Palmer even recorded a version. Wikipedia said Gunn drove a 1959 Plymouth Fury equipped with a car phone. Johnny Kidd and the Pirates were one of the first English rock bands. Kidd died in a car crash in 1966. The group got back together years later with Mick Green taking over the guitar duties. I loved the album cover, bought the record and liked it too.

It includes Shakin’ All Over (which the Guess Who had made a hit in 1965), Drinkin’ Wine Spo’ De’ O’ D (which the Electric Flag put on their first album because everybody in the band knew it), Lonesome Train, Do the Dog, and a wonderful pun between English and German—Don’t Munchen It (that’s the German version of Munich). They do You Don’t Own Me (not the Leslie Gore song) as a cross between Captain Beefheart and Root Boy Slim.